I Walk the Line
by pennylayne
Summary: Racetrack's story, the fourth installment in the A Very Thin Line series. A family man goes from the straight and narrow to a slightly more jagged path he's traveled down once or twice before.
1. Remembering

I lead a fairly normal life. I'm twenty-eight years old and a blue-collar kind of man; I live in a small town a little ways upstate from New York City, and I teach high-school theatre here. It's by no means a glamorous job and I don't make the big bucks or work in a cushy corner office with some big-breasted, blond secretary to do my bidding. But it's also nowhere near a thankless job, though many other teachers in the school will tell you otherwise and it appears from the outside that they're right. It's my passion, it pays the bills, and it brings back fond memories, as I teach at my alma mater.

I married my high-school sweetheart, Caroline, and together we have a son, Anthony Junior, a strapping young lad of six, and a daughter, Maria, who just turned two and is, without contest, the prettiest little girl on the face of the planet. My kids are great and my wife is amazing. She teaches alongside me, head of the music department at the Joseph Pulitzer Academy for Artistically Gifted Youth – and no, I don't expect you to remember that, let alone say it in one breath. We don't exactly pull in a lot of money between us, but we make enough to live fairly comfortably, and we're happy, so there isn't too much to worry about.

My name is Tony Higgins, and my life is normal.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Tony?" Caroline comes in from the early-fall rain, closing the front door behind her.

"Yeah, babe," I call from the couch. I'd get up to meet her at the door like I usually do, but I'm currently pinned down by two small bodies (which are heavier than one would imagine) and, to be honest, thoroughly engrossed in a _Thomas the Tank Engine_ video which they've both fallen asleep before even getting halfway through.

"You've got a piece of mail." I hear Caroline hang her coat up and listen to the familiar click of her heels on the hardwood floor as she comes from the front room back to the den, carrying a stack of letters and junk mail. She stands behind me, leaning down as I tilt my face up to her for a kiss, as has become customary in our ten years of marriage.

"Who's it from?"

Caroline examines the envelope one last time before handing it to me. "I'm not sure, exactly. There's no name on the return address, but it's out of New York City."

I look at the envelope and realize why Caroline sounded so weirded out when she brought in the mail. It's addressed to a Mr. Anthony 'Racetrack' Higgins. I laugh a little out loud when I see it; no one has called me Racetrack since I graduated high school ten years ago.

"Good lord," I say, tearing open the envelope. "I wonder what it is." I pull out the contents – a card, looks like an invitation of some sort. It's all off-white and embossed in silver, so I assume it's probably for a wedding or something. I open it and am blown away.

_**Daniel Weinberg**_

_**and**_

_**Johannes Visser**_

_**request your presence at a celebration of their love and commitment**_

_**on Saturday, the twenty-first of October**_

_**at three o'clock in the afternoon**_

_**at the Visberg Art Gallery**_

_**New York City, New York**_

"Oh, my God," I say, staring at the paper.

"Those names sound familiar." Caroline is reading over my shoulder and has a puzzled look on her face. "Where have I heard them before?"

"It's Specs and Dutchy," I say, arching an eyebrow in confusion.

I have no idea why these two are inviting me to their wedding... commitment ceremony... civil union... whatever it is. I haven't spoken to any of the crew I used to run with since we graduated. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not like I hate them or anything – we just lost touch. I got married a month after graduation and everybody went off in their separate directions for college and nobody bothered to keep up with anybody. Well, okay, I didn't bother to keep up with anybody, but me and Caroline got busy with college and starting a family and whatnot so we didn't have a whole lot of time for shooting the shit at some dive bar downtown. Plus there was a certain someone I've been trying these past ten years to forget about... and so far have not succeeded.

I'm surprised Specs and Dutchy even remember me, let alone think enough of me to invite me to something like this.

"Are you going?" Caroline's voice breaks my train of thought.

"Well, I... I don't know." I look over the invitation again, utterly confused. I have no idea how to respond to something like this. "I haven't talked to anybody from our class in ten years. I don't know if I'd even be welcome."

"They sent you an invitation, Tony," she says, sitting on the back of the couch.

"Yeah, but you know how you send invitations to people out of pity and because it's proper, even though you really don't want them to come? I bet this is one of those. They just sent it to be polite."

Caroline strokes my hair and laughs a little. "You're crazy. They invited you because they want you to come. You don't send out a pity invitation after ten years." She leans down and kisses the top of my hair, then tips my face up by my chin and looks into my eyes. "You owe it to them at least to call." Before I can protest, she taps the invitation where a phone number is listed to R.S.V.P. "No excuses, Tony," she says.

"Alright, alright," I pick up the remote and turn off the ever-cheery _Thomas_. Junior and Maria automatically wake up and protest.

"Daddy, we were _watching_ that," Junior says, and Maria nods before climbing up into my lap and fixing those big, brown eyes on mine.

"More choo-choo, Daddy."

I laugh and run my hand over her floppy brown curls. "Daddy has to make a phone call, baby. Time for the two of you to get up and terrorize Mama for a while."

"Come on, runts," Caroline says with a grin. "Let's let Daddy alone for a bit and you guys can help me make dinner."

Junior and Maria hop down from the couch and run into the kitchen gleefully, leaving me wincing in fear of the righteous mess in there that will await Caroline and me later tonight.

As soon as they've all disappeared, I get up and head into my office. Plunking down into my desk chair, I stare at the invitation for a moment longer and then pick up the phone and tap out the number.

"Visberg Art Gallery," I hear a familiar voice say cheerfully from the other end. "This is Dan. How can I help you?"

I clear my throat. "Specs?"

The voice laughs a little. "Yeah, who's this?"

"This is Tony... uh, Racetrack."

Specs gasps. "Well, holy shit! Racetrack Higgins, back from the dead! And I thought you'd disappeared off the face of the planet! How the hell are you, man?"

I smile a little bit, something I wouldn't think I'd be doing when talking to a friend from high school. "Can't complain. How about yourself?"

"Good. Really good. Dutchy, too." He sighs, and I can hear the smile in his voice. I wonder if that smile is still the same as I remember it being. "Do you have any idea how long it took to track you down? And then there you are, hiding in plain sight, living in the same damn place we left you." Specs laughs again, and I can't help but laugh along with him.

"Yeah, well, Pulitzer's was calling my name. Couldn't let old Snyder go too long without me terrorizing him, could I?"

"Sounds just like you, Race." He chuckles, and I feel he's still the good-natured, sarcastic Specs he's been since the day I met him. "So, how's teaching treating you? And how did you get Medda to give up her throne?"

"Believe it or not, she retired. She still comes in to hassle me about my teaching techniques now and then, though." I laugh, shaking my head. "But otherwise this whole teaching gig's a pretty cake deal. I mean, my students are significantly less obnoxious than we were."

Specs lets out a loud laugh, and I can't help but grin at the sound of it. I don't know why I cut off contact with him, he's a good guy. "Well, it'd be quite a feat to match our ability to get on anyone's nerves."

I nod, though he can't see it. "So what are you up to these days?"

"Oh, you know, chasin' the ladies, breakin' the law."

I laugh. It's funny, because, if you know him, Specs seems like the gayest son of a bitch alive. The thought of him even _looking_ at a woman seems more absurd than the Mariners making it into the World Series.

"Really, though, I've been working on this comic the past four, maybe five years."

"Oh yeah? Any good?"

I can actually hear Specs grin with pride. "It's sold a couple million copies, yeah."

"Well, congratulations." I smirk, still looking at the invitation. "And Dutch-boy?"

Specs chuckles. "He's a photographer, but did you expect anything less?"

"And what's up with this art gallery thing?"

"We own it. Opened it up about six months ago. I'm surprised you haven't heard of it, we're a pretty swanky place."

I laugh. "Well, I'm out in this honky little suburb, teaching at J.P.'s. You can't expect me to keep up with the lifestyles of the trendy."

"God, you're going to end up being Brian Denton. I expected that from Dave, but not from you." He laughs. "So, other than teaching, what are you up to?"

"Life's pretty tame for me now... I mean, me and Caroline have been married for goin' on eleven years now."

"Congrats, pal. How's she doing?"

"Pretty good, she's teaching music at J.P.'s." I smile. "I got a couple of little ones runnin' around here, too."

Specs makes an exaggerated sound of shock. "Racetrack Higgins, a family man. Who'da thunk it?" We share a laugh. "How many, how old, what are their names? You should be used to this by now."

I grin. "That I am. It's become a second nature, really. Two, first one's Anthony Junior, or just Junior for short, he's six. Smart little fella, he's learnin' to talk just like his pop, with the wisecracks to match." I sit back in my chair, smiling. I missed having a pal to brag to. "Second's Maria, my little girl, she just turned two. Prettiest little thing you'd ever see."

"Jesus, don't tell me you've got a white picket fence and a golden retriever to boot."

I chuckle. "Well, we're waiting on those until we get our extra point-five child."

We share another laugh and then there's a pregnant pause, and I suddenly feel really awkward, like I have no place being on the phone with Specs after this long. I sigh a little and hope he doesn't hear me. "So, I got your invitation."

"I figured. So does that mean you're coming?"

I'm silent again for a moment. "Um, well, I..." I bite my lip. I just don't know. I mean, I have no reason not to go, but then again... I have _every_ reason not to go. I don't know who's going to be there, who I'll see, who I'll talk to and who won't talk to me. It will be, without a doubt, the most awkward thing I'll ever experience. Well... maybe the second-most awkward, the first being a particularly embarrassing event which occurred my sophomore year of high school, but we won't get into that right now.

"Race, you still there?"

I'm snapped back to reality. "Huh? Oh, yeah." I blink. "Sorry."

"So, are you coming or not?"

"Um... yeah. Yeah, I'll be there."

"Great. Well, it's on the twenty-first, that's in three weeks, and it's here at the gallery... you need directions?"

"No, I think I can figure it out."

"Okay. Well, a word of advice, there's a lot going on here that weekend. So if you don't want to deal with the traffic, which, trust me, you _don't_, I would suggest you just come down on Friday and stay until Monday, book a hotel for the whole weekend."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. I might do that."

"I would definitely suggest it."

"Alright."

The door to my office opens and I spin around in my chair to see Caroline's head poked in the door. "Dinner's ready," she says softly, and I nod before she disappears again.

"Specs, I gotta get going."

"Alright. Well, we'll see you in three weeks, then?"

"You bet. Three o'clock." I smile.

"Great. See you then, Race."

"Bye."

Before I hang up, I hear, "Hey, Race?"

"Yeah?"

"It was really good to hear from you again."

I smile. "Yeah... you, too, Specs."

"Bye."

I hang up and walk into the kitchen, wondering what the hell I just got myself into.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I lay awake as Caroline crawls into bed beside me after putting Maria back into bed for the umpteenth time.

"What's wrong?" She lays on her side and I can feel her looking at me through the darkness.

"Nothing's wrong." I roll onto my side and look back at her, the light from the window creating a lovely silhouette. "Why?"

"You're awake."

"Yeah, and so are you."

"You're usually practically a rock by this time of night. Why are you awake?"

I reach out and stroke her hair, her cheek. She looks, feels just the same as she did in high school, though she's filled out a bit more in a couple places after two kids. She's still pretty, even after ten years of being married to someone like me. "Just can't sleep is all." I smile a little. "I'm fine."

I can actually feel her eyebrows knit together and the beginning of the Mommy Stare. I laugh. "I'm okay, Caro. Just got a lot on my mind."

"Like your conversation with Specs today?"

I shrug. "Well, yeah."

"What'd you tell him?" Caroline nestles her head into my chest, wrapping an arm around my waist. We don't cuddle very often anymore, so I figure she's trying to comfort me.

"I said I'd go."

She kisses my cheek, smiles against it. "Good. I'm proud of you, Tony."

I smile. "You're coming with me, right?"

Caroline laughs a little. "No."

My smile fades. "Wait... what? Caro, you _have_ to come."

She shakes her head. "No."

"Why not?"

"Well, for starters, I wasn't really friends with them in high school."

"Yeah, but you got to know them when we were dating..." I have a feeling this is going to make me resort to begging.

"That doesn't mean we were friends. That means they were my boyfriend's friends, and I was Tony's Girlfriend."

"Caroline, I _need _you to go with me. I can't go by myself."

She kisses my nose and shakes her head again. "Honey, we can't take the kids into New York City for a weekend."

"We can leave them with my mom. Or your mom. Or my sister."

She laughs a little bit. "Tony, they're too young. They need someone to stay at home with them."

I groan. "Come _on_, Caro. I haven't seen any of these people in ten years."

"All the more reason for you to go by yourself." Caroline strokes my hair and plants a soft kiss on my lips. "Besides, they sent the invitation to Mr. Higgins, not Mr. and Mrs. Higgins."

"You're part of the package now."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, that's not what I mean." I sigh. "Please. I can't do it alone."

"You have to do this by yourself this time, honey. Besides, I'll be right here waiting for you to complain to when you get back."

I sigh again in exasperation. "Fine. But you owe me. Big time."

She laughs and pushes me onto my back, climbing on top of me. "You know I hate to be in debt."


	2. Don't Know When I'll Be Back Again

I stand outside the principal's office, waiting for him to come in. He walks up, looking old and sour-faced as he always does, and there's a hardened look in his eyes that I've seen since I went to school here. It's no wonder he's called the Warden behind his back – and I'll have you know, _I_ started that and it's stuck for fourteen years.

"Good morning, Tony," he says as he unlocks the door.

"Morning, Mr. Snyder."

"You're a little old for detention, so what can I do for you?" He motions me into his office.

"You're never too old for detention," I say with a grin as I follow him inside. "Actually, I came because I need to request a few days off."

Snyder sits down behind his desk with a heavy sigh. "Tony, you know I hate those words."

I laugh. "I know, that's why I came straight to you. I've made it my personal mission to make your life hell."

"Well, mission accomplished." There's no humor in his voice, but for the Warden, that's nothing new. "When?"

"Looks like I'm going to need the twentieth and the twenty-third."

Snyder checks his calendar. "That's a Friday and a Monday."

"Why, yes. Yes, it is."

He glares at me. "Fridays and Mondays are bad days to take off."

"I know, Mr. Snyder, but something came up, and how often is it that I ask for time off?"

"The problem isn't giving you the time off, Tony, it's finding a decent substitute. Especially for a Friday and a Monday."

"I'll get Medda to do it."

"Miss Larkson is retired."

"Yeah, but she's always coming in to observe my class and tell me what I'm doing wrong. She'll do it."

Snyder pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fine, Tony. I want lesson plans for each period, both days, and instructions for the substitute by the end of the week."

I grin. "What, you don't want me to sing, maybe do a little tap dance?"

"Get out of my office, Tony."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You want me to teach your class?"

"It's just for two days, Medda," I say as I switch the phone to my other ear and dive into the pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

"Are you sure they'll listen to an old fogey like me?"

I grin. "You're still pretty as ever, so I think you'll hold at least some of their attention."

Medda laughs. "Boy, Tony, for a married man, you sure know how to flirt."

"It's a gift." I start loading dishes into the dishwasher. "Besides, if they don't listen, you can always beat them with your cane."

Medda shrieks. "And there it all goes, right out the window." I chuckle and I imagine she's shooting one of her stone-cold teacher looks into empty space, directed at me. "Alright, you charmer you," she says, trying to stifle a laugh. "I'll do it."

"Great. Thanks, Medda." I finish loading the dishwasher and kick it shut. "Caroline can help you out if things get out of hand."

"I'm sure everything will be just fine. I can still handle a class of teenagers, even those at Pulitzer's." Medda sighs, and I can tell she's excited to be teaching again, even if only for two days. "So, what are you going out of town for that's so important?"

"Oh, I'm going into the city for a couple of days to see Specs and Dutchy."

"Any particular reason?"

"Yeah. They're getting married." I examine my own wedding band, shrug. "Or something."

"Really?" I can hear the smile in Medda's voice. "That's wonderful. Give them my love."

I look up as the front door opens and a burst of noise enters the house. "Will do. Medda, I gotta go. Caroline's home with the kids. Thanks again."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Three weeks later, I find myself packing and still wondering what the hell I'm doing.

This is a bad idea. A very, very bad idea. This is worse than a class reunion. I mean, I _work_ at my high school and I don't even go to my class reunions. And now I'm leaving for a weekend to see a whole bunch of people who I've cut out of my life.

I can't help but wonder why they want to see me. Why do they even remember me? Maybe this is some confusing, fucked-up sign of some sort.

I sit down on my bed next to my open and nearly empty suitcase, overwhelmed.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" Maria toddles into my room, all brown hair and big eyes, and I can't help but smile. You just can't be sad when this kid is in the room.

"Nothing's wrong, baby," I say, picking her up and setting her in my lap. "Daddy's just tired." I press my lips to the top of her head. "What're you doing in here?"

"Junior won't play with me." She pouts for a minute and then shrugs, as if she's forgotten all about what she was pouting for. This girl's got the attention span of a goldfish, I swear. "What you doing?"

"Packing," I say, nodding to my suitcase.

"What's packing?"

I chuckle. "I'm getting clothes and stuff together to take with me because I'm going on a trip."

Her eyes light up. "Disneyland!"

I laugh. Ever since Maria saw a commercial for Disneyland, it's all she can think about. "No, not Disneyland."

She sighs dramatically. "Can I go on your trip?"

"'Fraid not, princess." I hug her to my chest in anticipation of the floodgates bursting open... which they do. It takes all the strength I have to keep from laughing. I stand up and cradle her, bouncing her a little bit. "Come on, now. It'll be okay."

Maria ceases her wailing for just a moment to look me in the face. "Nuh-uh! You're leaving me!" And the sirens go off again.

I smirk and bounce her around a little more. "Maria, _il mio amore_," I coo to her. "Daddy will always come home to you." When that doesn't work, I roll my eyes. "I'll bring you home a present."

That shuts her up. She throws her arms around my neck and plants a big, wet kiss on my cheek. "Want help packing, Daddy?"

I laugh and set her down in my suitcase. "Tell you what. You just sit there and look pretty, and I'll pack around you."

"Oh-kay." She grins at me. If it weren't for the fact that she looks exactly like her mother, I'd wonder if she wasn't just a direct clone of me. She's such a goofball.

Packing quickly turns into a sock fight, which lasts for a few minutes until Junior comes in and stands authoritatively in the doorway.

"Ma-_ri_-a," he says in his best "big-boy" voice, "you aren't s'posed to bug Daddy when he's _doing stuff_."

"He's not doing stuff. He's _packing_." Maria sticks her tongue out at him.

"That's doing stuff, stupid!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

"Hey, hey, _hey_!" I wedge myself into the line of fire. "Both of you, cut it out! What have I told you about fighting?"

"Sorry, Daddy," they say in unison as they hang their heads.

I shake my head and go back to my closet, but not before I hear Maria mutter, "Is not."

I roll my eyes and chuckle as Caroline comes in. "Okay, you two," she says in her fine-tuned Mommy Voice, "time to quit bugging Daddy and let him pack."

"I'm helping!" Maria chirps from my suitcase. Caroline laughs and lifts her up, setting her on her hip.

"Well, you can help him from your room now, because it's naptime." She ruffles Junior's hair and winks at me. "Both of you."

There's a collective groan as she herds the kids out of the bedroom and I'm left for five whole minutes in silence, during which I make some serious progress on my packing.

I reach up to pull down the case to my shaving kit from the top shelf of the closet, and an avalanche of stuff comes down on my head. When I'm done cursing, I look down at it. On top of the pile is my senior yearbook. I grab it and sit down on the bed, and open it for the first time in several years.

Caroline comes back in after putting the kids in their respective beds, and I don't even notice her walk in at first. I'm busy staring at pictures of my old friends, my old life. There's a picture of the cast of the play that year, and we're all clustered together, and I've got this big, stupid smile on my face. It's strange, because I don't even remember it.

My wife sits down behind me and wraps her arms around my waist. Resting her chin on my shoulder, she looks down at the yearbook. "You look happy."

I shrug. "I guess. I don't really remember it."

Caroline presses her lips to my neck and squeezes me a little. "You okay?"

Nodding, I put a hand on her arms. "I'm fine. Just nervous, I guess."

She smiles and reaches up to rub my shoulders. "Everything's going to be just fine, Tony. They're all going to be happy to see you."

"See, that's what I'm worried about. They shouldn't be happy to see me, I haven't spoken to any of them in years." I sigh and roll my head around. "I'm worried that some of them _won't_ be happy to see me."

"Like who?"

"I don't know. I don't know who's all going to be there."

"Then stop worrying, Tony. It'll just give you wrinkles."

I laugh and lean back against her. "Where would I be without you?"

She ruffles my hair and plants a kiss next to my ear. "I ask myself that question on a daily basis."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Friday morning comes far too soon for my liking. I wake up to the horrific screeching sound of my trusty alarm clock, which I promptly smack and it shuts up. I grumble and stretch, though there isn't much room for it what with Caroline curled against my back and both my kids and about eight hundred various stuffed animals pushed up against my front.

With the practiced skills of an especially experienced ninja, I lift the blanket off of myself and climb out of bed without disturbing anyone, breathing or plushy. I stretch out the kinks as I stand up, tuck my family back under the blanket, and head into the bathroom for my usual manly morning routine of taking a leak, scratching myself, and taking a shower.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After my shower, I get dressed and stand in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. It's quiet in my house this early in the morning, something I've never been able to really appreciate. It's been six years since I've experienced any form of quiet. I sip my coffee and savor the silence.

The silence doesn't last long, however, and I soon hear the pitter-patter of little feet coming down the hallway and into the kitchen. Maria stands in the doorway, teddy bear and blankie in tow, rubbing her eyes sleepily. "Daddy?"

"Hey, princess," I say, setting my coffee cup on the counter and kneeling down. I open my arms up and she pads over to me. "What're you doing up so early?"

"Dunno," she says, burying her face in my neck. "You leaving?"

"In a few minutes here, yeah."

"When you comin' back?"

I smile and kiss her forehead. "Monday." When she looks at me in confusion, I just chuckle. "That's four days."

"That's forever, Daddy."

I laugh and stroke her curls, shaking my head. "I'll be back before you know it."

"With presents?"

"With presents." She smiles at me and I smile back. "Now come on. I've got to go, so I'll tuck you back into bed and you can have a super fun weekend with Mommy and Junior, okay?"

Maria yawns and nods. "Okay, Daddy."

I pick her up and carry her back to my bedroom, wedging her into the bed between Junior and Caroline. Caro wakes up and looks at me with a sleepy smile.

"You leavin'?"

"Yeah." I pull the blanket up around Maria's shoulders, kiss both Maria's and Junior's heads. "I'll call you when I get to the hotel." I walk over to Caroline's side of the bed and lean down, planting a kiss on her mouth. She returns it with a soft sigh.

"Love you, Tony." She turns back onto her side, nestling under the blanket. "Have fun."


	3. Reunion

It takes me three hours to get into the city, which is ridiculous because it usually takes me an hour, hour and a half tops. I'm really irritated by the time I reach the city limits and I'm a little bit nervous that my inner New Yorker is going to unleash itself and wreak havoc upon the city. I've already let one or two very creative curses slip. Despite the inconvenience of it all, I find myself feeling the faintest twinge of nostalgia as I look around at my surroundings.

I grumble at the unending line of cars in front of me and pull out my cell phone, searching for something, anything to keep me sane. I search through my contacts and choose a number.

"Visberg Gallery."

I smile. "Hey, Dutch-boy."

The voice on the other end laughs a little bit. "Who's this?"

"Well, I'll give you a little hint. I'm short, Irish-Italian, loud and obnoxious, and I pretty much dropped out of existence for about ten years."

Dutchy cackles. "RACETRACK!" I actually have to pull the phone away from my ear. "Specs said you were coming, but I didn't really believe him. Where are you at?"

I laugh without humor. "Well, I'm about seven blocks from my hotel, but as it stands, it's going to be like an hour before I actually get there." I sigh and shake my head. "With all the technological advances we've made, you'd think we could do something about New York traffic."

Dutchy laughs. "Keep dreaming, Race." I grumble again and am finally able to turn off of the road and head towards my hotel. "So, you staying the whole weekend?"

"Yeah. Specs said there's a lot going on this weekend, so I'd better just plan to stay a while."

"Oh, yeah. There's a Stones concert in town."

I laugh. "It boggles my mind that Keith Richards and Mick Jagger are still alive."

I hear Dutchy snort. "I agree wholeheartedly." He starts yelling something at someone on his end. "Sorry, Race, I gotta get going. We've got a catastrophe in the making with the flowers here."

"That's okay. I caught a break and I'm almost to my hotel. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"Later."

I pull up to my hotel a few minutes later and check in. Once I'm up in my room, I throw my suitcase down and drop onto the bed. I haven't been here more than five minutes before my cell phone rings. I dig it out of my pocket and answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi, honey, where are you at?"

I smile a little bit. Caroline's voice is always comforting. "I just checked into the hotel and now I'm currently laying down and waiting for my head to stop feeling like it's going to explode."

"Uh-oh, what happened?"

I roll onto my side, staring out the window at the dingy building next door. "Nothing happened, traffic was just hell. It's been a while since I've been here."

I hear the faintest hint of a smile in her voice. "How's it feel?"

I sigh and roll back over to my back. "Feels like home." I used to live in Manhattan before I went to J.P.'s, but after I graduated college and started working there again, my folks moved out closer to the school to be around me and Caroline and the kids. I haven't really had a reason to come into the city since, aside from random plays I've gone to see.

"So, what are you going to do now?" I can hear the kids running around and screaming and laughing in the background – I miss them. I want to go home.

"I don't know. Maybe sleep, until Monday when I can just head back there and forget I was even here."

"Anthony," Caroline says. I know she's going to be stern with me now because she never calls me Anthony. "Stop being such a pansy."

"What?" I laugh, unable to help myself. "Did you really just call me a pansy?"

"Well, that's what you're being."

"How am I a pansy?"

"You're being all mopey and pussy-footing around the concept of actually _seeing_ your friends. You're _scared_. You're a _pansy_."

"I love you too, honey."

Caroline laughs and I hear a little voice pestering her. "Your little monsters want to talk to you," she says, and the phone is passed off to Junior.

"Hi, Daddy," he says, trying to sound grown-up like he always does on the phone.

"Hey, pal."

"Are you coming home yet?" The way his voice sounds when he asks this reminds me that even though he's already in kindergarten and is growing up a little more every day, he's still my little boy.

"Soon, buddy. You're just going to have to be the man of the house and hold down the fort while I'm gone. Keep your mama and Maria in check. Think you can do that?"

"You bet." I can tell he's grinning with pride right now. "Hey, Daddy?"

"Yeah, Junior."

"Does this mean I get to smoke your cigars?"

I laugh. "No, sport."

"But you just said that I'm man of the house and you told me that when I'm a man, I can--"

"No, Junior." I can hear him pouting on the other end. "Hey, I love you, okay, buddy?"

"Love you too, Daddy."

"Pass me off to someone else."

There's a little jumble of noise before I hear the sound of soft breathing. I hear Caroline's voice in the background. "Say hello."

"Hello?"

I grin. "Hi, princess."

Maria gasps. "Daddy! Where are you?" She still hasn't quite figured out how the telephone works.

"I'm on my trip." I close my eyes and picture my family. "It isn't any fun without you."

She giggles. I _love_ that sound. "Buy my present yet?"

I laugh. "No, not yet. I'm looking for something extra super special for you."

"Miss you, Daddy."

I sigh. "Miss you more, princess." I open my eyes and look at my watch. "Hey, gorgeous, I gotta go. Daddy has to go eat lunch."

"Okay."

"I love you."

"Love you too, Daddy."

"Give Mama and Junior hugs and kisses for me, okay?"

"Okay."

"Bye, sweetheart."

I get up from the bed and shove my phone back into the pocket of my jeans. Looking around the room one more time, I grab my keys and walk out the door with my mind set on a ham on rye from this deli I remember from around the corner. I'm headed toward the elevator, not really paying any attention, when I smack head-on into someone and find myself flat on my ass.

"Sorry, man," a thick New York accent says.

"My fault, wasn't lookin' where I was goin'." A hand is extended to me, and I take it and pull myself up. "Thanks."

The man stands and stares at me for a moment. "Racetrack?"

I shove my hands in my pockets and sigh. "Oh, Jesus, didn't _anyone_ from high school forget me?"

The mans blue eyes go cold. "Hey, I tried to."

"Excuse me?" I look at him, confused.

"I see you succeeded in forgetting your past."

I blink and study him for a moment. Then it hits me. "Oh, my God." He cocks an eyebrow. "Spot Conlon."

"So your memory hasn't failed you after all. Congratulations." And he's gone.

I stand, stunned. What just happened here, and who shoved that stick up Spot's ass?

I walk into the elevator and press a random button. Leaning my head back against the cold, dirty steel, I sigh and remember.

_"Pull your head out of your ass, Spot. I'm no fucking queer, and neither are you."_

God, I am a horrible person.

I said that to him way back when, when we were sophomores at Pulitzer's. I completely overreacted – I mean, not that you could blame me, really. The kid had just told me he was pretty much in love with me... we were sixteen and we were both confused – well, I was confused, Spot maybe not so much. Point is, it scared me out of my mind and I said some things I didn't mean, and Spot never spoke to me again.

Figures I'd run into him here.

I knew this was a bad idea.


	4. WakeUp Call

I hurry out of the lobby, glancing over my shoulder. I want to get as far away as I can as fast as I can. All thoughts of food have vanished from my mind, and so I just wander around the streets for a couple of hours before ducking into some bar I've passed once or twice already.

As I plop myself down on a stool, the bartender comes over. "What can I get ya, pal?"

His smile is sweet, and I can't help but smile back a little. I shrug. "Something strong."

He laughs and pours me some kind of booze. "On the rocks okay?"

"Sure, why not." He slides it to me, and I drink about half of it down in one gulp, which is rewarded by copious coughing.

"Easy," the bartender says, laughing. "You okay?"

"I will be after about four more of these."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I'm slumped over the bar by the time I'm done, countless empty glasses in front of me. The bartender taps me on the shoulder.

"You drive here, son?"

I shake my head. "Walked."

"Let me call you a cab."

I nod and slide my credit card across the table. "Might as well pay my fab, too."

"Tab." He tries not to smirk and heads over to the cash register.

I'm pushed out the door when the cab arrives, and I mutter directions before leaning against the door and staring morosely out the window. Maybe things will be better tomorrow, I half-think, half-pray to myself.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

My cell phone rings as soon as I get into my room. I pull it out of my pocket and fumble around with it a moment before finally answering. "Hullo?"

"Hi, Tony."

"Caro! It's you!" I grin. "How are you? I miss you. You miss me?"

"Tony, are you drunk?" Caro's voice doesn't sound quite so friendly as I feel.

"What? No!" I snicker. "Wait... maybe. Um... yes."

"Anthony." She sighs. "Why have you been drinking?"

"'Cuz I needed it."

"Why's that?"

"Spot Conlon," I mumble, falling back onto the bed.

"Who?" Caroline sounds thoroughly displeased.

"Nevermind."

"Well, I'm sure your friends will appreciate you coming to their wedding hung over."

"Won't be hung over." I curl up with my head on my pillow.

"Sure, you won't." I can actually hear her rolling her eyes. "Look, I just called to say goodnight. I'm going to bed. I suggest you do the same."

"Already there," I say, pulling my wallet out of my back pocket and tossing it on the nightstand.

"I love you, Tony, even if you're completely plastered."

I snicker. "I love you, too."

"Goodnight." She hangs up, and I turn my phone off and set it next to my wallet.

I close my eyes, just for a second. Just to rest them. For a second.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I wake up and look at the clock, whose cheery, old-fashioned face tells me it's quarter to one. In the afternoon. Panicking, I scramble out of bed and end up in a tangle of legs and blankets on the floor.

"Fuck," I mutter, sighing and leaning my head back against the bed.

My head is screaming by the time I get myself untangled and into the bathroom to shower. The shower helps a little bit, but I've still got a hangover from the depths of hell.

I pop a couple ibuprofen and shave, then comb my hair and get dressed. I look at myself in the mirror. Dark hair, dark eyes, crooked smile, suit and tie. I look like the kid I did in high school, but I'm nowhere near him anymore.

I wonder if anyone else will see that.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

There's a small group of people gathered outside the Visberg Art Gallery when I arrive, and they're all in black-tie, so I assume they're here for the same reason I am.

I walk up toward the door, and they all look at me. There's that weird first glance and then a double-take, upon which they all stare. I smile and nod at them, and they continue staring.

I can hear the whispers from several feet away.

"Is that..."

"It couldn't be."

"Why would he..."

"It is!" And on that, a tall man with dark hair and brown eyes breaks away from the crowd and runs over to me, throwing his arms around me. "RACETRACK! What the fuck are you doin' here?"

I laugh. "Hey, Jack." I hug him back and pull away. "I, uh... well, Specs and Dutchy sent me an invitation."

"We all figured you'd died some horrible death or somethin', disappearing the way you did."

I shake my head. "Nope. But I caved and got married and now I'm a teacher." I grin. "Ten points if you can guess where."

Jack laughs. "No way! They let you back into Pulitzer's?" I nod and he grins. "What do you teach?"

"Drama."

"Medda gave up her class? She didn't croak or nothin', did she?"

I laugh. "No. Just retired. In fact, she's actually substituting for my class while I'm gone."

"Wow. Hey, guys!" Jack waves to the group of men still standing and staring. "It's Race, and he's not a zombie!" I chuckle again and smile as my old friends from high school come over to greet me.

After several minutes of hugs and punches and answering questions as to where I've been for the past ten years, a woman I recognize as Specs's mom pokes her head out the door. "We're about to start," she says with a smile.

We all file in and take our seats. When I sit down, I notice Spot is directly across the aisle from me, and he goes back and forth from glaring at me and pretending he doesn't realize I'm there.

Specs and Dutchy come out and the ceremony begins, and for a few minutes, I forget all about Spot Conlon.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"That was really nice, Dutchy." I smile at him and at Specs when he walks up. "I can't believe you guys are still together. I would've expected you to kill one another by now."

"Oh, believe me, I've been tempted," Specs says with a sly grin, handing Dutchy a glass of champagne. Suddenly, the two of them pull me into a big hug. "Thanks for coming, Race."

I laugh as they pull away. "You know, I was kind of apprehensive about coming at first but now I realize I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Dutchy spots his parents and heads over to talk to him, and Specs just stands and looks at me.

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Have you seen Spot yet?" He sips his champagne.

"Um... yeah. Actually, I ran into him at the hotel. Like, literally ran into him."

"And?"

I shrug. "Well, he wasn't happy, and he certainly wasn't friendly."

Specs nods. That's the thing about Specs. You rarely have to explain things to him – it's like he just _knows_. "You should talk to him."

"I can't talk to him. I've got nothing to say."

"Tell him you're sorry."

I scratch my head. "Tell him I'm sorry?"

"Well, you are, aren't you?"

"Um. Yeah."

"So tell him."

I set down my champagne glass. "Alright, Specs." I shake my head and pat his shoulder. "Whatever you say. But as for now, I have to excuse myself."

He laughs and nods and I head off.

As I'm washing my hands in the bathroom, I look up into the mirror and see Spot walking up behind me. He recognizes me and sighs, washing his hands quickly and heading for the door.

"Spot."

He stops in his tracks and doesn't turn around.

"Spot."

"What, Race?"

I sigh, drying off my hands. "Look, um, I know it probably doesn't mean much to you now, not after this long and especially not after the shit I said to you. But... I'm sorry."

Spot turns around and looks at me. Just looks at me. Then he nods. "Okay."

I blink. "Okay?"

He shrugs. "That's all I wanted to hear from you. So... okay." And he actually smiles at me a little bit.

"Wow. I was expecting you to punch my in the face or tell me to fuck off or do something equally Spot Conlon-esque."

Spot laughs a little bit. "I grew up, I guess." He looks at his watch. "Well, it's getting kind of late. I should get back to the hotel."

"You want a ride?"

"Um..."

"I won't kill you, if you won't kill me."

He smiles. "Hell. Why not."

We go and say goodbye to everyone, and I am told several times over to keep in touch. Spot and I walk out to my car, and then are on our way to the hotel.

About halfway there, Spot looks over from the passenger seat. "You're married?"

I nod. "Ten, going on eleven years."

"So, what, you went straight from graduation to the wedding chapel?"

Laughing, I shrug. "Pretty much. Caroline and I got hitched, oh... maybe a month after graduation?"

"You're married to Caroline McCourt."

"I am indeed."

Spot nods and looks out the window. "Never would have expected that from you, Race." He leans back against the headrest, sighing. "What about kids, you got a mini-Racetrack runnin' around yet?"

I smile. "Two of 'em. Boy and a girl, six and two."

"A married man and a breeder to boot. Well, congratulations, Race, I think you've succeeded in being the only heterosexual male ever to graduate from Pulitzer's."

Laughing, I pull into the hotel parking lot. "Do I win a prize?"

He laughs and we get out of the car. "Just my sheer amazement." Spot shakes his head and we walk to the elevator. "So, what is it you do for a living these days?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You're a male prostitute, aren't you?"

"Close." I laugh. "Teacher. At Pulitzer's."

"You're shitting me."

"I shit you not, my friend. Medda retired and I took her position as drama teacher."

Spot laughs out loud. "Good lord, Higgins. You are just full of surprises."

"So, what about you?" I press the button for my floor.

"Oh, no. We'll talk about me later." He grins at me mischievously. "Gives you a reason to keep in touch, doesn't it?"

"Man, you people got conniving over the years." I roll my eyes and step off the elevator when the doors open. "This your floor, too?"

"Yeah. I'm, uh, down the hall and around the corner, way the hell down that way." He points to his left.

"I'm just right here." I nod to the door across the hall. "So, um, when are you taking off for home?"

"Don't leave 'til Monday."

"Me either."

He nods. "Well, maybe I'll see you again this weekend, then."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Okay, well, goodnight, Race."

"Goodnight, Spot." He turns and I watch him walk away, strolling down the hallway in his black and white tuxedo. I feel something in me as I watch him turn the corner, and something tells me it isn't just a pang of regret for not having kept up our friendship.

I sigh and go into my room to undress and curl up in bed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I open up my eyes several hours later to a dark room and a loud, relentless pounding on the door. Throwing myself out of bed, I turn on the bedside lamp, pull up my pajama pants and shuffle to the door. I can't see much out of the peephole, so I call through the door, "Who's there?"

"Spot," a voice replies.

I unlock the door and pull it open. "Spot, it's like, three in the morning, what are you--"

Before I can finish my sentence, Spot flies in and slams the door behind him, and he's on me, his hands in my hair and his lips on mine. I stand, completely baffled, until he grabs me by the hips and drives me through the room to the bed. As he pushes me down, I look up at him, wide-eyed.

"Spot, I..."

"Shut up, Race," he says, unbuttoning his shirt and casting it aside.

"No, Spot, I'm straight, I'm married... I... I don't do stuff like this."

He climbs on top of me and pushes my shoulders down to the mattress. "Seriously, Race, shut the hell up."

Spot lays down on top of me and starts kissing me again. I feel his chest on mine, his skin touching me, and my _important_ part jumps to attention, which causes Spot to grin triumphantly against my lips. His hands start to wander and the weird thing is, I don't want to stop him. I know I should push him off of me, throw him out of my room, take a boiling hot shower and go home to my wife, but I _just don't want to_.

He kisses down my neck, nipping and tugging here and there and before I know it, he's tugged my pants off and tossed them to the floor. My hands take on a mind of their own and are unbuttoning his jeans, pushing them down his hips, and he's laughing. He tugs my boxers off and looks me in the eye.

"You ready, Race?"

More so than I ever thought I would be. I nod and lay back, bracing myself.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I wake up in the morning, naked, sweaty, and groggy. Blinking, I rub my eyes and sigh.

What a bizarre dream.

I feel Caroline's arms around me, holding me close and warm. I turn over, prepared to curl into her and go back to sleep, but when I look, it's not her face I see.

It's Spot's.

He opens his eyes and smiles sleepily at me.

"Morning, Race."


	5. Dirty

I'm in the middle of an attempt to jump out of the bed when a pair of arms hook themselves around my waist and pull me back down. For a guy who weighs what Spot Conlon does, which is approximately two and a half pounds, he's awfully strong. I fall back to the bed and lay a minute, my eyes wide with panic. Spot just lays on his side, looking at me.

"Spot, I think you should leave."

He sighs. "We need to talk."

"We don't need to talk. You need to leave and I need to go home to my wife." I close my eyes and scrub my hands over my face, shaking my head.

"No."

I roll onto my side and pull the blanket up to my waist. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean _no_. I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen. I'm not leaving."

I have the urge to shoot myself right now. Unfortunately, my gun is locked up tight in the drawer of my nightstand at home, which seemed convenient when I put it there, but right now is proving to be quite the grievance. "What do you have to say?"

"I'm in love with you."

"Oh, Jesus." I pull the blanket up over my head.

"Race, I'm serious." He grabs the blanket and pulls it back down, looking me in the eye. "I've been in love with you since the day I met you."

"That was almost twenty years ago, Spot."

"You think that matters? Stuff like this doesn't just go away, Race. I thought it had, but then I saw you yesterday and... well, it all came back." He sighs and lays back beside me, staring up at the ceiling. "I love you, Race."

"I'm sorry." This is awkward. And a little bit scary.

"No, you're not." He looks over at me, his eyes sad but with a little glint in there somewhere. "You've got feelings for me, too."

"I do not... where the hell do you get that?" I shake my head. "I'm not gay, Spot."

"I beg to differ. You were rather compliant last night."

"Yeah, but I was..."

"Sober?" He smirks. "Lonely? Horny? You slept with a man last night, Mr. Higgins."

"It was a one-time thing." Panic is rising in my chest again, and I feel like I might just die right here.

"Was it? Are you sure?" Spot rolls over on top of me, grinning down at me.

"Spot, stop it." My protests and weak, half-assed attempts to get him off of me are answered with a laugh and a kiss. I lay back and resign myself to it, and soon, find myself unwittingly kissing him back.

It's kind of an awkward feeling, being naked and having another man (who is also lacking in the clothing department) laying on top of you... and I'm more than a little ashamed to admit that it's not entirely _bad_.

What is bad, however, is the fact that all thoughts of my wife flutter away as Spot gets to work.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Spot rolls off me and lays on top of the blankets, panting. He grins at me. "You know," he says, catching his breath, "for a guy who's supposedly straight as an arrow, you aren't so bad."

I sigh and roll onto my side, facing away from him. I feel him looking at the back of my head, and I close my eyes as he presses his lips to my shoulder and gets up.

"Are you leaving?"

"I might as well." I hear the jangling of his belt as he tugs his pants on, the rustling of his shirt. He walks over to my side of the bed and picks up my cell phone.

"What are you doing?" I sit up and pull the blanket over my lap in modesty.

"Putting your number in my phone and vice versa." He smiles at me and for once, there isn't a mocking or menacing quality in it. It's just a smile. "We're going to keep in touch this time."

"Oh. Um." I scratch my head. "Okay."

He finishes with the phones and looks at me. "Hey. You asked me yesterday what I do now."

"Yeah."

"Um, I run a music shop. I sell instruments and music, and I give lessons. It's not a chain or anything, but I do pretty well for myself." Spot shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs.

"Wow. I'm glad to hear you're doing good." I smile a little bit. "That's really cool, Spot."

"Yeah." He smiles. "Okay. Well, I'm gonna go." He leans down and kisses me and then he's gone, and I'm left kind of wishing he'd come back.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

My phone rings Sunday night as I'm laying in bed. I look at the caller ID, sighing. _Caroline cell_. I close my eyes and press "answer."

"Hello?"

"Hey, handsome." I hear a smile in her voice. "Are you ready to come home?"

I sigh. "More so than you'd think."

Caroline laughs a little bit. "You sound tired."

"I've had a busy day."

"Wanna tell me about it?"

I shrug. "Nothing important happened. Just... running around the city. It's a lot of work."

"Ah. Well, you'll be home tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. I have to check out by eleven... I figure I'll leave around nine, maybe nine-thirty, and that'll get me home between eleven and eleven-thirty, depending on traffic."

"Good. Well, I'll be at work, but I know I'll see you when I get home. I'm glad you'll be home. I miss you." She sighs happily, a dreamy kind of sound that only makes me sad. "Our bed's kind of weird to sleep in alone."

"I know. I'll be home in the morning." I look at the clock on the nightstand and yawn. "Well... I think I'm gonna go, I need to get to bed if I'm going to get an early start in the morning."

"Okay, honey. I love you."

I feel like I'm frozen. It's not a good feeling. I can't move or breathe or speak.

"Tony? Are you still there?"

"What? Oh, yeah. I... sorry. Loveyoutoobye." I hang up the phone and hit myself in the forehead with it.


	6. Top Five

**Things I Did This Weekend**

1. Ran into my old best friend from high school in a hotel hallway and responded by running away like a pansy

2. Got piss-faced drunk in a terribly failed attempt to forget about said run-in with former best friend

3. Watched my two gay friends get married

4. Reconciled with the former best friend

5. Cheated on my wife. Twice. With a man.

Also known as the Top Five Reasons Why Tony is Screwed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It takes me about half the time to get home that it took me to get into the city, and once I finally pull into the driveway, I just sit in my car and close my eyes, thinking about all the different ways my life has turned itself upside down in the past four days. I open my eyes and look at my house, with the lights off and the doors locked. No one's home, but I don't want to go inside. I feel like I've betrayed my entire family and I don't have the right to go back into that house like everything is just hunky-dorey. Because it's not. I'm a fuck-up, and I've failed my family.

What am I going to say to Caroline? Last night I could barely tell her I love her. How am I going to be able to look at my kids? Will Junior and Maria be able to tell there's something different about me? Will any of them ever look at me the same again?

The worst part is that this is what I'm the least worried about. My biggest concern right now is, will I ever see Spot again?

I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll through the address book, staring at Spot's name. As if my fingers have a mind of their own, they press the "call" button and bring the phone up to my ear.

_Ring_.

_Ring_.

"Hey, you've reached Nathaniel Conlon," his voice says. "I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now, I'm probably working. If you'd leave me your name and number, I'll get back to you whenever my hectic life becomes normal again."

_Beep_.

I take a breath and am about to leave a message, but then I suddenly hang up. I have nothing to say to him. I shove the phone back into my pocket and hope to God he doesn't see my number on his caller ID and call back. I don't even know why I called in the first place.

I sigh and get out of the car, pulling my bag out of the backseat. I unlock the front door and walk into the dark house, the familiar smell and the toys in the entryway, and frown.

What have I done to my life?

I walk to my bedroom door and drop my suitcase just inside, then go and flop onto the couch to stew and watch television.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"DADDYYYYYYYYY!" The jubilant screaming from the front of the house jolts me awake from my nap about a second and a half before two small bodies catapult onto my chest.

"Oof!" Air rushes out of me and I think a couple of my ribs might be broken, but I'm laughing nonetheless. "Hey, guys."

"Don't never, ever go away again, Daddy!" Junior ruffles my hair like I always do to him, and I chuckle. "I missed you!"

"Oh, well, I missed you too, buddy." I kiss the top of his head and then he's pushed out of the way by Maria.

"Present?"

I laugh. "Okay. They're in my suitcase. But you have to get up so I can go get them, okay?"

Maria climbs down off of the couch and I stand up. Caroline is standing in the doorway, smiling. "Have a good trip, baby?"

"Um. Yeah." I lean in for a quick peck on her lips, then head back to the bedroom with Maria and Junior in tow. "Okay, guys, close your eyes." They pretend to close them, peeking the whole time, as I hoist my bag up onto the bed and open it.

I place a little crown on Maria's head, and she immediately takes it off and squeals. "Thanks, Daddy!" I get a quick hug around the knees and then she's off like a rocket, screaming ecstatically for Mommy.

"You ready for your present, pal?" Junior nods and holds his hands out. I place a deck of cards in them, smiling. "Now you have your own deck to learn poker on." I ruffle his hair and smile when his face lights up.

"So you'll teach me?"

"Of course I will, buddy, I promised I would!" Junior grins and thanks me before heading off to play fifty-two pick-up, or Throw Cards At Maria, as the object of the game has mutated to.

I laugh and shake my head and walk into the bathroom attached to my room. As I'm washing my hands afterward, I notice something on the counter: a white stick with a little blue plus sign on the end of it. My eyes go wide.

"Caro!" I open the door and yell from it. "Caro!"

She comes running into the bedroom. "What? What's wrong?"

I point. "What is that?"

She blushes. "Um, it's... it's a pregnancy test, Tony."

"And why... why is there a plus sign on it?"

"Why do you think?" There's a smile on her face. There's no smile on my face. This is not happy time.

I sigh and slump against the wall. "Fuck."

Caroline's face falls. "I thought you'd be happy about having another baby, Tony."

"Well... I... Caro, we can't really afford another baby."

She sighs. "There isn't much we can do about it now. We'll just have to move a few things around in our lives."

"Where are we gonna put it?"

Caroline shrugs. "Well... if it's a boy, it can share a room with Junior, and if it's a girl, it can share a room with Maria. Or we could move the computer and stuff in your office out to the kitchen or the living room, and put the baby in your office."

I run my hands through my hair, shaking my head. "I thought we were being careful... we decided on two kids."

"Well, these things happen, and like I said, there isn't much we can do about it now, I mean, I'm already pregnant."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I'm a week and a half late, and the test was positive, but I can go to the doctor and get a second test done if you want."

"Maybe you should. Just to be sure."

Caroline nods. "Okay. Well, you... you just let it sink in, I guess. Calm down. I'll just go make dinner or something."

"Yeah." I stare at the wall across from me.

"I love you."

I don't answer.


	7. I'm Okay, You're Okay

Work on Tuesday is absolute hell. I have to lecture my students on their behavior according to Medda's substitute notes – it takes a lot to piss Medda off, so when you get a note from her saying your class was "ill-behaved and insubordinate," you know it was bad. I thank God for every second of my free period, even if I am using it to work.

I'm also avoiding Caroline at all costs – which is pretty easy, considering she's still pretty pissed at me for last night's baby meltdown. The only eye contact she makes with me is to give me the Death Glare. I feel like a coward, and I'm probably right for feeling so, but it's so hard to face her.

The thing that's making work the most difficult is that I can't get the weekend out of my head. I keep replaying the events in my head, over and over and over. I keep seeing Spot's face. Hearing his voice. Smelling him. Feeling him.

This is not okay.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

My mopey train of thought is interrupted by the sharp ring of my cell phone, and I nearly jolt out of my chair.

"Hello?"

"Racetrack?"

I clear my throat. "Um, yeah."

"Hey, it's Spot. Uh, did you call me yesterday?"

"Um, I... I don't think so, why?"

I can almost hear Spot rolling his eyes. "Race. I know you and I didn't talk for like, twelve years, but I haven't been afflicted with mental retardation in that time." He sighs. "You're freaking out about this weekend, aren't you?"

"Well, I... Yeah. Kinda." I scratch my head. "Okay, kind of a lot."

"I knew you would be." I hear a sound in the background that sounds like some sort of liquid being poured into a glass, and I hear Spot swallow. "You tell your wife?"

I sigh. "No... thing is, I don't really know if I'm going to tell Caroline."

Spot makes a little "mm-hmm" noise of agreement. "Well, I suppose that'll make it easier if it happens again."

I choke a little bit. "Excuse me?"

"You know, if you don't tell your wife about it, it'll be better for all parties involved if..."

"Who the hell said it was happening again?"

Spot chuckles. "I'm not saying it will. I'm just saying, you know, we're gonna see each other again and sometimes things just happen."

"Spot, I don't--" There's a quiet knock at my door. "I gotta go. There's a student or somebody outside my door who wants to talk to me. I guess I'll have to talk to you later."

"Promise?" There's something so endearing about the way he says that – a little helpless sort of quality that's so completely unlike the unshakable Spot Conlon I used to know way back in high school, and it makes something in my chest tighten. I can't help but sigh.

"Yeah. Promise. Bye." I hang up and set my phone on the desk. "Come in."

The door opens and Caroline comes in. "Hey. Are you awfully busy right now? Can we talk? I mean, I know it's your free period and everything..."

"Hi, Caro. Um, no, I'm not busy... why, what's up?" I'm trying hard to suppress the fear that's creeping up in my chest. In this attempt I work up the fakest smile I've ever smiled in my life. Hi, my name is Anthony Higgins, and I'm a liar and a cheat.

"I just wanted to let you know that I won't be coming right home after work. I scheduled a doctor's appointment for three-thirty, so I'll be going straight there." She shrugs and then straightens her skirt nervously.

"Okay. Um... do you want me to go with you? I guess I could call the daycare and say we're going to be a little late picking up Junior and Maria..."

She actually smiles a little. "Thanks. But no, that's okay. I can make it by myself, I think. Besides, the kids need to be picked up on time. It throws them off, especially Maria, if we come at different times than we normally do." She pushes her hair out of her face, another nervous habit of hers, and heads for the door. "So I'll see you tonight... um, could you start dinner?"

"Yeah, absolutely." I nod and she steps out the door. I turn back to the apology letters to Medda I'm reading over.

"Hey, Tony?" Caroline slips back into the room.

"Yeah."

"Are we okay?"

I turn around in my chair and look at her, at her sad eyes and the lower lip she's biting in uncertainty. After sitting and staring at my wife a moment, I nod. "Of course."

Caroline smiles and leans down to kiss me. I kiss her back, awkward though it may be.

"Eww, get a room!" A call sounds from the classroom outside my office, as my students start filing in for the next period.

"We are in a room!" I shoot back, and then smile at Caroline. "I'll see you whenever you get home?"

"Yeah." She smiles and walks out.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Where's Mama?" Junior stares disdainfully at the snack I've made him of apple slices and peanut butter, as he usually receives his afternoon snack from Caroline.

"She's at the doctor." I screw the lid back on the peanut butter jar and shove it back in the cupboard.

"Is she sick?" He pushes the apples around his plate and Maria, at the mere insinuation that her mother is sick, bursts into tears.

"No, Junior, she's not sick, and don't scare your sister like that. Mama's just going in for a check-up, you know, like you guys do every now and then?" I sit down at the kitchen table across from my kids. They stare at me blankly. Apparently this is a difficult concept to grasp. "You know, when you go to the place and you sit on the cold table that's all covered in paper and the man in the white coat pokes and you and shines lights in your eyes, and at the end of it all you get a sticker and a lollipop?"

"Oh!" Maria grins and nods in understanding.

"Does Mama get a sticker and a lollipop?" Funny that this is what Junior is most concerned about.

"Well, I'm sure that if things turn out the way I think they might, she'll get lots and lots of lollipops."

"What?" Junior blinks at me.

"Eat your apples."

My phone starts vibrating in my pocket. I pull it out and look at the caller ID. It's Spot. As much as I want to, I don't answer.


	8. Hesitation

"I'm home," Caroline's voice calls from the front of the house.

"In the kitchen," I yell back from over the stove.

I hear footsteps clicking through the hallway and a pair of arms hook themselves around my waist. Caroline rests her forehead between my shoulder blades, sighing. I rub her arms with my free hand and stir the soup. "Well?"

She pauses for a moment, wrapping her arms tighter around me. "Positive," she says, almost inaudibly.

I close my eyes, resting my hand on her arms. "Okay. Well, we have a little while to figure things out, I guess."

"We need to talk to the kids," she says, shaking her head against my back. "I'm sorry, Tony."

"Don't be sorry, it's not like you did it yourself. It's not your fault, honey."

"No, but... well, never mind. When's dinner?"

I sigh and turn the stove off. "Dinner's ready. You wanna go get the kids, or do you need to sit down and rest?"

"I'll go get them." Caroline heads out of the kitchen and comes back a couple minutes later with the kids and we all sit down at dinner.

"Mommy, you're not sick, are you?" Junior asks, spooning soup into his mouth.

"No, honey," she replies, setting down her roll.

"Then how come you went to the doctor?"

"Well, actually, I want to talk to you guys about that." I clear my throat and watch her, sitting back in my chair. "See, Daddy and I... well, we're going to have another baby, so you'll have a little brother or sister soon."

"It'd better be a little brother," Junior says with a scowl. "I don't want another Maria."

Maria looks at me, eyes wide. "But... Daddy, I'm the baby."

I smile a little. "I know you are, honey. You'll always be our baby. Junior will, too. There's just going to be one more baby in the house."

Maria pouts. "I don't want another baby!" She crosses her arms.

"Well, honey, I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter."

"I DON'T WANT ANOTHER BABY!" She bursts into tears and I shake my head. Junior quickly follows suit, and the dining room is suddenly a cacophony of crying.

"I think it's about bedtime." I get up and scoop Maria up from her chair, and Caroline grabs Junior. We head to their respective rooms and tuck them in, then meet in the living room.

We sit curled up on the couch in an awkward silence for a while, before Caroline looks up at me. "Are you really that unhappy about having this baby?"

I kiss her forehead and sigh. "I'm not unhappy about it... just stressed out. I'm kind of excited about being a father again, I guess, but I mean... we're really going to have to move some things around and life is going to be really different."

"But you're not mad about it or anything?"

"No, why would I be mad about it?"

Caroline shrugs. "Well... I don't know." She yawns and stretches, then stands up. "I think I'm going to go to bed. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, honey."

She walks toward the hallway, then stops and turns around. "Oh, um, I ran into Stephen Masters when I was at the doctor's office today, and he says hi. I forget what you called him in high school. He was the one whose mother sent him all the baked goods?"

"Oh, you mean Pie Eater?" She thinks about it for a moment, then nods. "Well, that's nice of... wait a minute, what was Pie doing at your OB/GYN?"

"Um..." She pauses, biting her lip. "You know, I really don't know." She shrugs. "Anyway, goodnight."

I hear the bedroom door close and I lean my head against the back of the sofa, sighing as I stare up at the ceiling. I stay like this for a good twenty minutes or so before I get up and head into the kitchen to grab a beer. I stand out on the back stoop with it, staring at the rain for a while before I dig out the pack of cigarettes I've hidden between two empty flowerpots that Caroline doesn't know about, lighting one up and leaning back in a lawn chair.

I can feel the weight of my phone in my pocket and reluctantly pull it out, looking Spot up on the speed dial. Before I can talk myself out of it, I press "call."

Three rings later, Spot's voice comes on. "You didn't answer when I called earlier."

"Sorry. I was with my kids."

"It's cool, I understand." I can hear a small smile in his voice. "So, what's up?"

"I don't know. Just calling you back, I guess." I take a drag of my cigarette.

"Are you smoking?" He laughs. "You still smoke?"

I shrug. "Only every now and then. I mean, when I'm stressed out."

"So what are you stressed out about?" There's something easy in his voice that makes me feel comfortable with him. It's just like we're in high school again, just two friends talking, rather than... whatever the hell we are.

"Found out today my wife's pregnant again, still kind of freaking out about the weekend, had to deal with work, and then had to tell the kids about the new baby and that did not end well." I take another long pull on the cigarette, exhaling heavily.

"Oh. Well, um, congratulations on the baby, I guess." That easiness is gone, replaced by a tight kind of sadness. "When's she due?"

"Don't know yet." I finish off my beer and set the bottle on the patio table. "Caroline just took the test today, didn't actually sit down with the doctor."

"Oh. Um. Cool, I guess." He sighs.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just... y'know. Never mind."

We're silent for a while, and I stare at the rain pouring down on the kids' play set, and finally I sigh.

"Spot."

"Yeah?"

"Um. I miss you."


	9. A Victim of Desire

It's a couple of weeks before I get any particularly fantastic news. I've gotten some that could fall on either side of the fence, such as the fact that Maria says she's ready to potty train (which is great, but it's also hell), and that Caroline is due on June 30th.

The good news, however, comes on a Tuesday afternoon, as I'm grading papers in my office while the kids are sleeping and Caroline is out running errands or whatever it was she said she was doing. My phone rings and I look at the caller ID, reading Spot's name with a faint smile.

"Hey."

"I have amazing news." There's a jovial sound to his voice and I can't help but grin.

"Well, do tell, my friend."

"So, I got a call yesterday from The Warden."

"Wait..." I lean back in my chair, set my pen down. "The Warden, as in, Snyder?"

"The very same." He chuckles. "Anyway, so he calls me yesterday and asks me to do a week-and-a-half long advanced-guitar workshop at J.P.'s."

"And what'd you say?" I find myself crossing my fingers, and I quickly uncross them.

"I said I'd absolutely do it." Spot sighs a happy sigh, and I smile. "I leave in two days, and I'll be there almost two weeks."

"That's great!" I grin without realizing it. "Where are you staying?"

"Snyder offered me a dorm room, but I told him I wasn't a masochist." We laugh. "I don't think he quite understood."

"No, the old man's hearing's on the fritz lately. He probably thought you said something about not wanting breakfast."

Spot laughs and then sighs. "Anyway, he said they'd put me up in a hotel. It's over on, uh, First Street."

"Oh, hey, that's like, two blocks from me." I wonder why I'm smiling, and wonder if I should be.

"Really? Well, maybe I'll come and visit you. If you're lucky."

I chuckle. "Maybe. You could come over for dinner, Caroline makes a..." I stop. I'm inviting the man I cheated on my wife with over for dinner. Okay, children, what's wrong with this children?

"Or you could come by the hotel and we could get coffee or whatever."

"Yeah. Um. That sounds good." I hear the front door open, and sigh. "Okay, well, Caroline's home, so I'm gonna have to let you go, Spot. I'll talk to you later?"

"Absolutely. And if I don't talk to you before, I'll see you in two days."

"Yeah. Bye."

"Bye."

I hang up the phone and head into the kitchen, where Caroline is standing in front of the fridge, smiling and humming as she reaches for a bottle of water.

"Have fun on your errands?"

Caroline jumps and slams the refrigerator door shut, looking at me. "You startled me!"

"Sorry." I lean against the counter and look at her. There's a glow about her. Pregnancy always agreed with her.

"Um, yeah. I didn't have a bad time, anyway." She shrugs and takes a drink of her water. "What'd you do while I was gone?"

"Oh, put the kids down for a nap, graded some papers, you know, highly exciting and adrenaline-pumping stuff." I smile. "Windy out?"

"Huh?" I flick a glance up to her messy hair and she blushes and pats it down. "Oh, yeah. Um, it's such a nice day, you know, what with it not raining and all, I had the windows down in the car and I guess I just forgot to comb it out again." She raises the bottle to her lips again.

"Ah." I nod. "Well, it sounds like you had a good day."

"Yeah. So, what do you want for dinner?"

I shrug and open the fridge.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The kids are put to bed, the lights are turned out, the house is quiet and my bed is warm, and yet I still can't sleep. Excitement and anxiety pump through my veins and I can't seem to keep my eyes closed for more than a second. Caroline's been out for a good hour or so already, and I don't want to get up because I know she'll wake up and I'll face Mommy Mode, so I just lay in bed quietly and think about two days from now. Maybe I'll feel better then. I feel happier already just anticipating it.

Caroline turns into me, curling against my side and laying her head on my shoulder. I notice there's a different smell about her. She smells... I don't know, warmer, more feminine. I never noticed it before in her last two pregnancies.

Maybe I just never paid attention before.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Work over the next two days is slower than I ever thought possible. I get through by the skin of my teeth just by thinking about how much more pleasant it'll be when Spot gets here. Friday afternoon I trudge home with Caroline and just as we're getting in the door with the kids, my phone rings.

"'Lo?" I mutter into the mouthpiece as I help Junior and Maria out of their coats.

"Hey," Spot's voice says.

"Well, hey. What's up?"

"Just got settled into the hotel. Wanna meet for dinner and drinks?" I hope my face isn't brightening up too much.

"Uh, yeah. Let me shower and get everything squared away and I'll meet you at the hotel, okay?"

"Alright. See you later."

I hang up and Caroline looks at me with a smirk. "That your fancy side piece?"

I laugh a little. "Oh, you know it." I shake my head. "Just Spot. He just got into town for his workshop and I'm gonna meet him for dinner and drinks."

"So you won't be eating here?"

"Guess not. You can take the kids out or whatever, if you want." I lean in for a kiss and I smile at her. "I'm gonna go take a shower. I don't know what time I'll be home tonight but I'll try not to be too late, okay?"

"Alright. Have fun."


	10. Defiance

I walk into the hotel lobby, looking around the old, well-worn place. It's the only hotel in town and... well, it's not exactly the Ritz. I look at the people standing around, all seven of them, and feel a weight in my chest lift as Spot emerges from the elevator.

"Hungry?" He smiles at me as he approaches.

"Yeah." I smile back. "I can drive, if you want."

"Isn't there a bar just a couple doors down?"

"Um, yeah. You wanna go there?"

Spot nods and I follow him out the door and down to the bar, where we find a booth and sit down. We stare at one another for a moment, then Spot shrugs. "So, anything I should know about Pulitzer's before I head in there on Monday?"

"Don't look any of the students directly in the eye. You may turn to stone." He laughs and we order as the waitress comes up, then sit back quietly after she leaves.

"Well... how's the new little Racetrack comin' along?" Spot smiles a little bit, but doesn't look very happy.

"Um, well, Caroline's due at the end of June... and, uh, that's about all we know right now." I shrug.

"You don't seem particularly thrilled about it."

"I'm not, really." My eyes widen as the words come out of my mouth. "Um... I mean... you know, I guess I'm happy, I'm having another kid and all, but... my life is full enough, you know?"

Spot nods. "Well, things will even out."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

After dinner and a sufficient, if not slightly excessive, amount of alcohol, Spot and I wander out of the bar, laughing over God knows what. My phone rings as we stroll along the sidewalk. I pull it out and answer to Caroline's voice.

"I'm about to put the kids down to bed, where are you at?"

"Um... walking out of the bar and... uh, walking?"

"You've been drinking again."

"I told you I would be."

Caroline sighs. "How much?"

"I don't know, enough?" To my side, Spot snickers, though seeing as he can't hear Caroline, I don't know what's so funny. "What's so wrong with having a few drinks with a friend?"

"What is it about this Spot character that makes you drink so damned much, Tony?"

"It's not like I'm an alcoholic."

"I don't want you driving home."

"Oh, come on. It's like, two, maybe three blocks." I roll my eyes. "Hell, I could _walk_ home."

"When it's this cold out? Are you retarded?"

I sigh. "Caroline, what's wrong?"

"I don't want you here if you're drunk, Tony. You'll be a bad influence on the baby."

"The baby isn't even a real baby yet!"

"Goodnight, Tony," she says sharply, and then the line goes dead.

"What's goin' on?" Spot asks, turning into the hotel.

"Apparently I'm not welcome in my own home tonight." I sigh and shake my head. "Pregnancy appears to have transformed my wife into Adolf Hitler."

Spot laughs and waves for me to follow him. "Come on up, you can stay here tonight."

"You sure that's a good idea?"

"I think it is." He heads into the elevator.

I know I should argue, but I don't want to. I just follow him.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"So, what do you feel like doing?" We've been up in Spot's hotel room for maybe forty-five minutes, just sitting in silence.

"I don't know." I shrug and look around the room for the umpteenth time; nothing's changed.

"Wanna watch a movie?" I nod and Spot picks up the remote, choosing some random gold-digging movie from the pay-per-view. "You seen this?"

I look at the title and shake my head. "Nope... Caroline and I were going to see it when it was in the theatres but then we decided not to."

"I haven't seen it either. I hear it's good."

"Yeah."

Thirty minutes in and the movie is forgotten about. Spot keeps adjusting on the bed and thus inching closer to me, and finally I just can't take it anymore. I look over at him, his eyebrows knitted together in determination as he tries to concentrate on the movie. I take a deep breath, lean over, and kiss him.

I feel him tense in surprise for a moment, but he quickly relaxes and kisses me back before pulling away. "What was that for?"

Shrugging, I lean back against the pillow and sigh. "Wanted to, I guess. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's just, you surprised me. You put up such a huge fuss last time and I thought--"

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," I say, closing my eyes. "But you throw everything off balance."

"You do the same thing to me, pal."

Our lips meet again and this time it's frantic. Before I know it, we've peeled one another's clothes off down to our boxers and Spot is on top of me until I turn my head for air.

"Are you okay?" Spot asks, panting.

I nod. "Just needed some air. I don't do this very often."

"Well, I should hope not." He smirks. He rests his forehead against my collarbone for a moment, then lifts his head again and looks at me. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I sigh and nod. "Yeah. I'm sure."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I roll over in the morning and once again find Spot's face instead of my wife's. I find myself smiling a little at the sight, the way he still looks like he's about sixteen years old... I figure he'll probably always look like that. The corners of his mouth are turned up like they always are, and he looks so completely peaceful.

His eyes open after a few minutes and meet mine. "What?"

I laugh a little. "Nothing. It's just, you look... Never mind. Nothing. Sorry."

"Okay..." Spot sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, giving me a view of his bare back. "I'm gonna take a shower. You're welcome to leave if you need to get home."

I glance at the clock on the nightstand and see it's six-forty-five. Why the hell am I even _conscious_ this early in the morning? "Nobody's going to be up at my house, so I could stick around here for a while, if that's okay."

"Yeah, absolutely." He stands up and walks, naked as the day he was born, to the bathroom. "Um... this might be... well, um." He scratches his head nervously and smiles at me. "You can keep me company... if you want."

"Mr. Conlon, how bold of you. I am shocked and appalled." I laugh, but am somehow propelled from the bed to my feet and follow him into the bathroom.

It's been a while since I showered with someone – not since before Junior was born, back when Caroline and I still had sex for reasons other than to produce a child or strictly because it's what married people _do_. It's kind of a strange feeling, having someone that close to you in such a small place, but it's not bad.

My mind wanders briefly to my wife, still at home, asleep in our bed, and what she'd have to say if she knew what I'm doing at this very moment. But then I feel Spot's hands, his mouth on me, and all thoughts of any nature are quickly banished.


	11. You Big Softie

"Hey, honey," Caroline says as I walk into the kitchen.

"Hey," I mumble, heading over to grab an apple from the fruit bowl.

"I'm sorry about last night," she looks up from her coffee cup and smiles. "Hormones, you know."

"Yeah. It's okay." I look over at her, puzzled. "Should you be drinking that?"

She shrugs. "Decaf."

I nod and sit down at the table across from her. "So, what are you doing today?"

"Hanging around the house." She smiles at me over the rim of her mug. "What about you?"

"Same thing." I shrug and take a bite of my apple.

"Yeah." There's a silence for a couple minutes. "Oh, your mom called. She's going to pick the kids up before she goes to church tomorrow morning and keep them overnight, and she'll take them to daycare Monday morning."

"Any particular reasoning as to why?"

"You know, I asked her the same thing, and she started yelling at me in Italian. I think it was something about her having the right to see her own grandchildren when she felt like it."

I laugh. My mother is crazy. And by crazy, I obviously mean Italian. "Well, okay, then."

"So we'll have the house to ourselves."

"Yeah... well, I told Spot I'd help him with his lesson plans for his workshop tomorrow, and that'll take most of the day, but I'll be home in the evening."

"Oh." Caroline nods. "Well, we can have dinner, then."

"Sounds good."

Another silence, and it lasts several minutes.

Just as I'm about to get up from the table and go wake the kids up, Caroline speaks. "So, you hated Spot Conlon in high school. How come you're all buddy-buddy now?"

I shrug. _Because I'm in love with him, perhaps_? "Well, we were really close freshman and sophomore years... we had this falling-out, I guess, and didn't talk for a while, but then we ran into one another at Specs and Dutchy's wedding, and we made up."

"Uh-huh." Caroline nods. "What'd you have a falling-out about?"

_The fact that he professed his undying love for me, and even though I was in love with him, I wouldn't admit it and completely shut him down_.

"Oh, I don't know. It was high school. Probably a girl or something." I shrug. "Okay, well, I'm going to go wake the kids up."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The day passes by at a painstaking pace and by the time I wrestle the kids into bed for their nap, I'm ready to gouge my eyes out with a blunt object. I've avoided calling Spot all day simply because Caroline is around, and now I feel like I'm about to explode.

I slink into my bedroom with my mind set on a pillow and a blanket and passing out for a good hour or two, but Caroline is in the bedroom, folding laundry and packing it away neatly into drawers.

"Hi, sweetie, what's up?"

"Was gonna take a nap," I respond, as I pull my shirt over my head and toss it into the laundry hamper, followed by my jeans.

"Ah," she says as I crawl underneath the covers. "Well, you want some company?"

"Um. I guess."

She slides in beside me, resting her hand on my stomach and her head on my shoulder. I close my eyes and start to fall asleep, but soon am suddenly awakened by her hand traveling further down my torso and her mouth on mine. Before I can decipher whether I'm actually awake or if I'm just dreaming, she's straddling my hips and trailing aggressive kisses down my neck toward my chest.

"Caro--"

"Don't talk, Tony." She nips – well, more like _chomps_ – at my collarbone, laughing a little when I suck in a sharp breath of air.

"Yeah, but Caro, I--"

"Come _on_, Tony. Do you know how long it's been since we last made love?" She looks at me, a pleading look on her face. "Five weeks. _Five weeks_, Tony. Do you have any idea how _long_ that is?"

Before I have a chance to respond, she's kissing me again. Kissing, biting, grinding, and as she's tugging my boxers down, well... _nothing happens_.

"Oh, Tony," she sighs, shaking her head as I lay in disbelief. "It's okay, honey."

"Get off," I mutter, pushing her away from me. I grab a random pair of sweatpants off of the pile of laundry that Caroline was folding when I came in and yank them on, heading out of the bedroom.

Caroline follows me, trying to keep up with my stride as I grab a bottle of beer out of the fridge and slump into a kitchen chair. "Tony, honey, it's alright. It happens to every guy now and then."

I fold my arms on the table and drop my head onto them. "It's not okay, Caroline. It's _not okay_."

"Are you more stressed out than usual?" She rubs my shoulders.

"What do you think?"

"Well... um... do you think maybe this is because I'm pregnant?"

_No, it's because you're not Spot._ "I don't know. Maybe."

"Honey, you know this isn't going to last forever. Me being pregnant, I mean. And... and it's not like I can't..."

"Caro, can you just stop?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry." She lets go of my shoulders and stands off to the side. "Um... you can go take your nap now, if you want."


	12. Blowin' Up

"So you couldn't--"

"Nope."

"Not even..."

"Not at all."

I sigh, laying back on Spot's hotel bed after confiding in him about yesterday's bedroom debacle. He pats me on the head. "It's okay, Race." He lays back beside me. "So, do you think it really is because she's knocked up?"

"No, I know what it is."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" I just look turn my head and look at him. "Oh," he says, this big, shit-eating grin spreading across his face. I could kill that little fucker right now. "I knew you'd come around, Race."

"I hate you."

"Yeah, except for the part where you're madly in love with me and want to marry me and adopt little Ethiopian babies with me."

I roll over and punch him in the chest. He punches me back, and we both laugh. This is what makes Spot so great. Among other things, that is.

We lay there for a few minutes, and then Spot rolls onto his side. "You hungry at all?"

"Yeah."

"Feel like going over to Marcello's and getting some pizza?"

I smile and nod at the thought of the pizza parlor we spent so much time in together with the rest of our friends back in high school. "That sounds really good." I stand up and feel my back pocket. "Oh, shit. I think I left my wallet at home. Wanna run to my place with me to grab it? It won't take very long."

"Am I gonna meet your kids?" He looks almost frightened by the prospect.

I laugh. "No. They're stayin' with my ma for the night. I think Caroline's home, but she could be out doing... whatever women do when they go out."

"Oh. Um. Okay."

We head down to the car and drive to my house. We sit in the driveway for a couple minutes while I convince Spot that it's okay if he comes into the house, and then he follows me in.

"I think I left it on the nightstand, so I'll just be a second."

I walk into my bedroom to find my wife on my bed, writhing under the touch of a man who isn't me and sighing a name that isn't mine.

"Is that..." Spot says from behind me.

I stand frozen in the doorway, my mouth hanging open. "I think it is."

"Huh," he says. "_That_ must be why they called him Pie Eater. You know, I always wondered about that."

Caroline looks over and shrieks. "Tony!" She scrambles to sit up, pushing her skirt down. "How... how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," I say, grabbing Stephen "Pie Eater" Masters, my old roommate from high school, by the collar of his shirt and dragging him off of my bed.

"Race, I... Let me explain," Pie Eater says, holding his hands up.

"You've crossed the line, pal," I say, and without thinking, my fist meets his nose with more force than I knew I had in me.

"Tony!" Caroline jumps up from the bed, trying to get between me and Pie. "Tony, stop it! Let's be rational here!"

"You... just shut the hell up." I send an ice-cold glare toward my wife, not breaking the eye contact as I let go of Pie Eater's collar and he drops to the floor, his nose bleeding profusely. "I don't have time to waste on whores." Setting my jaw, I walk over to the nightstand and grab my wallet. "Spot and I are leaving, and by the time I get back, it'd be in your best interest not to be here." As I walk out the door, I shake my head.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"I knew there was a reason I quit hanging out with Masters," I grumble, half to myself and half to Spot, who sits calmly and quietly in the passenger seat as I drive aimlessly, and a little bit recklessly, around town. "That fucking sleazy, stupid son of a bitch. Who the hell does he think he is, fucking my wife?" I punch the middle of the steering wheel. "And Caroline! God damn it! Ten years of marriage and two – no, _three_ kids, and for what, so she can run around behind my back with my old roommate?"

Spot puts his hand on my knee. "You ever put any thought into the fact that you're kind of doing the same thing?"

"This is completely different, Spot."

"Not really." He sighs. "The only difference is, you and I have been going on a lot longer than Caroline and Pie have."

"Yeah, but you and me, we really have something."

"Maybe they do, too."

"Would you fucking stop that!"

"Stop what?" He looks at me, and it kind of feels like he's looking into me.

"Stop being so fucking reasonable. I _hate_ that." I pull the car over and sigh, resting my forehead on the steering wheel.

"I'm just trying to get you to calm down." He moves his hand from my knee to between my shoulder blades, rubbing gently. "You don't know how long this has been going on. Maybe it's more than sex for them."

"I don't care what the hell it is. I don't even want to think about it."

"Race, I know you're pissed off, and anyone in their right mind would be." He leans over and kisses my temple. "But you're also a hypocrite."

"Shut up, Spot."

"You need to step back and take a look at your life. Realize that your marriage is over. I think it has been since before it started." He pats my back. "Both you and I know why you were with her in the first place."

"But I tried, Spot," I say, my voice cracking a little bit. I feel so small and helpless. "I tried to make it work and it did, for _so long_. Fuck, I have _kids_ with her, for Christ's sake! How come this all has to blow up in my face _now_? Why couldn't it have happened earlier?"

I hit my head against the steering wheel and Spot unbuckles my seatbelt and drags me across the seat to hold me against him. I don't even notice the tears sliding down my cheeks until Spot wipes them away and looks into my eyes. "Because you're an idiot, Race."

I actually laugh a little bit as I bury my head in the curve of his neck.


	13. The Human Heart is Only MakeBelieve

I finally get home around two in the morning and the house is dark, empty, and cold. I trudge heavily down the hallway and into my bedroom, and flick on the light to see the damage. The bed unmade and messy, the small bloodstain on the carpet beside the bed, and all the drawers and the closet doors flung open. All of Caroline's clothes are gone, her make-up and perfumes and whatnot missing from the vanity.

I sigh and grab some pajamas out of the dresser, then take my pillow from the bed and head out to the couch. I'm not sleeping in that room. Not in that bed. I refuse to.

As I flop onto the couch and stare blankly into the darkness, I wonder how I'm ever going to explain this to my kids.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The morning comes far too soon and I find myself calling into work sick as the first thing I do after I wake up. I just can't make myself go today. Even if Spot will be there, I can't go. Can't face Caroline, can't see my students, can't see my coworkers. All I want to do is sit on the couch and do nothing all day.

I call my mom to explain everything that's going on and ask her to keep Junior and Maria for a couple of days, and she responds in her normal fashion: with a slew of rather creative obscenities in Italian. "I knew that girl wasn't no good for you, Anthony," she says, clucking her tongue. "Two-timing my baby. That girl's not right in the head. Crazy. You don't need no crazy girl, Anthony. You married an Irish girl and they're no good... don't tell your papa I said that, okay?" She sighs. "Anyway, you need yourself a good Italian girl who knows how to take care of a man. One who'll love you and run your household right and take care of your babies and actually _cook_. None of this Mick meat-and-potatoes bullshit." She mutters something under her breath in Italian and I roll my eyes. "We will find you a good, sane Italian girl, alright, Anthony?" Right, well, other than the fact that there is _no such thing_ as a sane Italian girl...

"Yeah, see, Ma, that's the thing, I gotta tell you something..."

"There's this real nice girl, her name is Camilla, I think, and she goes to church with your papa and me, she's maybe, oh, twenty-five, twenty-six at the most. She's single, awful pretty, I hear she's a great cook, and she met the kids today and she just absolutely adored them. Well, who could blame her? Anyway. She'd be good for you, Anthony, don't you think?"

"Ma, I wanted to tell you--"

"We'll worry about that later, though. Look, I'll keep Junior and Maria until you're ready for them to come home. Don't worry, I don't mind at all. I'll come by and pick up their clothes and stuff. Oh, I'll bring you some lasagna, too. I know you. I bet you haven't eaten all day."

"Ma, I don't need lasagna. I need to tell you something—"

"Oh, shit. I forgot to put Maria's coat on her when I took her to daycare this morning. I have to take it to her before she has her recess. Gotta go. _L'amo, il bambino._"

"Ma!" I shout into the phone, but the line has already gone dead.

I sigh and sink further down into the couch.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I sleep away most of the day Monday and wake up Tuesday morning to a refrigerator full of random foods and a stack of clean laundry, thanks to my mother, who ransacked my house after nearly tying me to a dining-room chair and force-feeding me lasagna.

After a boiling-hot shower, I drag myself into work and find Spot waiting in my office. "Good morning," he says, taking his feet off my desk and spinning around in my chair. "Glad to see you made it in today. Are we feeling better?"

I shrug as I close the door and set my briefcase down. "I guess. I still don't want to be here."

Spot gets up and wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a warm hug. "I know you don't." He smiles and runs a hand over my head, a gesture I find unusually warm. "I'm really glad you came, though. I didn't know if you were going to, you know, since you stayed home yesterday and moped around like a bum." He grins and presses his lips softly to mine, and I can't help but smile.

"Thanks, Spot."

"You taste like cannoli."

I laugh. "Yeah, my ma brought over somewhere close to a week's worth of food last night, though she thinks of it more like two days' worth, and so I had some of it for breakfast." I shrug. "Apparently I'm depressed or something, and so I need to eat. A lot."

"And I bet you didn't even bring me any, did you?" He pouts, and I swear, this guy actually gives Maria a run for her money.

"No," I say, chuckling. "But you could come over tonight and have some, if you wanted."

"Is this you hinting that you don't want to be alone?"

"Maybe," I shrug. "It's kinda weird, being alone... I mean, my kids aren't even home. I'm a little lonely."

"Okay, well, on one condition." Spot lets go of me.

"What's that?"

"You have to talk to Caroline today."

I groan. "Spot, I can't talk to her. What the hell am I supposed to say?"

Spot sits on my desk and looks at me. "Tell her you're a hypocrite. Talk things out. Tell her about me. You know you have to sometime," he says when I wince.

"Yeah, but it's going to be awkward."

"_C'est la vie,_ my friend." He rolls his eyes. "Besides, you guys have to talk. You can't just go right ahead and get a divorce, which you _know_ you're going to do eventually _anyway, _and let the papers do the talking for you. It'll be messy, and you don't want that, trust me. I mean, do you want your kids to have to go through a divorce that's all gruesome and drawn-out, or one that's just clean-cut, simple, and amicable?"

He has a point. Not that I'll admit it to him. His ego is big enough as it is without people telling him he's right. "I don't know, Spot. I just don't know if I can look her in the eye."

"Funny, she feels the same way about you."

"How would you know?"

Spot laughs. "Hello? Earth to Race! Your wife is the head of the music department." He rolls his eyes. "Anyway, she had more trouble meeting eyes with me today than I imagine she will with you."

I sigh and shake my head. "Spot, do I really have to do this?" I imagine I sound not unlike a certain couple of children I know when they don't want to do something.

Spot puts on his most powerful, stern facial expression. He's good at those, and you wouldn't think it because he's so little, but he's really a persuasive and intimidating kind of guy sometimes. "Yes, Race, you really have to do this."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I knock softly on the open door of Caroline's office after school gets out and wait for her to turn around. She sits at her desk, slumped over the keyboard, her face in her hands. She doesn't even turn around. "Come in," she says, her voice small and further muffled by the heels of her hands.

I step into the tiny office and close the door behind me. "Caro."

She drops her hands and her back stiffens as she slowly turns around in her chair. "Tony. I didn't think you were here today."

"Well, I figured I shouldn't miss any more work. Three days this year is more than enough, as Snyder has let me know already." I shrug. "So, um... we need to talk."

Her face is bright red. "Yeah. We do."

I clear my throat and stare down at my feet, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

"I am, too."

Caroline looks confused. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

"Well... I had no right to act the way I did. I mean... it's not like I'm entirely perfect." I sigh. "And it's not like I was entirely faithful."

"What?" She sits back in her chair, watching me.

"Um... well, I kind of had a... a _thing_ with someone when I went to Specs and Dutchy's wedding. And it kind of... didn't stop."

She blinks at me. "Who is it?"

"It's kind of embarrassing."

"I think we're past the point of embarrassment, Tony."

I sigh. "Well... you know Spot?"

"Oh, my God." Her hand comes up to her mouth. "So, you're gay now?"

"I... well, I don't know that it's a 'now' kind of thing. It didn't just happen." I lean against the file cabinet, looking around the small room. "See, that falling-out I told you about, the one between me and Spot in high school, that was because we were kind of fooling around, and he told me he was in love with me. And I felt the same way, but I wouldn't admit it because I didn't want to be gay. So we got in this huge fight and quit talking."

"And then you started dating me."

"And then I started dating you."

Caroline shakes her head. "So I'm a beard. Fantastic. My life is _perfect_."

I can't help but chuckle, which turns into a laugh, and then Caroline joins in and soon we're both cracking up.

We are so fucked up.

"So," Caroline says as she wipes tears from her eyes and tries to catch her breath, "what are we going to do?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I mean, I guess we kind of have to, y'know, get a divorce."

"I guess." She sighs and leans back in her chair, placing a hand unconsciously on her stomach.

"What are we going to do about the baby?"

She blushes. "See, Tony, the thing is... _we_ don't have to do anything about the baby."

I blink, confused. "What do you mean..." It hits me. "Oh. _Oh_."

Caroline nods, looking down at the floor. "Sorry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Like, ninety-five percent."

"Okay. Um. Well, thanks for telling me." I sigh, looking at the floor as well. "So... how long has this been going on?"

"Like a year, I guess." She shrugs.

"Do you love him?"

"I do, yeah."

I bite my lip. "Well... at least it's not just sex."

"What about you? Do you love Nate – I mean, Spot?"

"Yeah. I think so."

We stay in silence for a while, the air between us heavy. "So where are you staying?"

"With Stephen." Caroline looks up at me. "I guess I'm going to be moving in there in a little while. It's not a real big place, but there's room for him and me and the baby."

"Oh. Well, I'm sure you'll be happy. I hope so, at least." I pause for a moment. "Um, what about Junior and Maria?"

"I talked to Stephen about them. He says he doesn't really want to take care of another man's children. I mean... if, or when, rather, you and I get divorced, I'll still take them weekends or every other weekend or whatever, but Stephen just doesn't want them living with us."

"Uh-huh." I nod. "Okay. Well, I can take custody, I guess. You do realize that means child support, though, right?"

"Yeah. And it's not like I'll try and back out of that."

"Okay."

"Well... I need to get going. I'm supposed to meet Stephen for dinner."

"Alright. I should swing by my parents' house and let the kids know I still exist." I sigh. "You and I need to sit down and talk with them, sometime soon."

"Okay. You know where to find me."

She stands up and grabs her briefcase and her keys, then smiles at me a little sadly. "Tony, you know this doesn't mean I never loved you. I did. And I still do, very much. Just not in the same way."

I smile back. "Yeah, same here."

And with a hug and a quick kiss on my cheek, she's gone.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You guys are so fucking weird," Spot says with a roll of his pretty blue, Irish eyes, shoving a cannolo into his mouth. "I mean, how many couples do you know who will one day barely be talking, then the next day the husband is breaking the wife's lover's nose, and then two days later they're hugging and talking about a divorce like it's a normal, everyday thing?"

I shrug. "Well, at least we aren't trying to kill each other." I drink some water and lean back against the couch cushions. "And I don't have to sneak around anymore. I guess she doesn't have to, either."

"So..." Spot gives me a little impish grin. "Does this mean we can get married and adopt little Ethiopian babies?"

I smack him on the back of his head. "We're not getting married, and I already have two babies, but you can adopt them if you'd like."

He smiles a little even as he rubs his head. "So we're going to be together?"

"Yeah, I figure I'll keep you around. You're useful for some things."

"Gee, thanks." He leans his head on my shoulder. "Only problem is, you live here and I live in the city and run my shop. What are we gonna do about that?"

"Well..." I wrap an arm around his shoulders and sigh. "Your shop's pretty successful, isn't it?"

"I fare pretty well for myself, yeah."

"You can get rid of your apartment, move out here, and open up another branch of your shop. It'll be close to Pulitzer's, and you'll get a lot of business from the kids and teachers there, trust me. More than you'd get in the city, probably, what with the ridiculous amount of money these kids have."

"That's not a half-bad idea."

"I know, that's because I came up with it."

Spot rolls his eyes and tilts his head up, bringing his lips to mine. "I love you, Race."

I grin and kiss him back, thrilled to be able to do so and not feel dirty or secretive about it. I can love him now, openly, and no one can say a damned thing about it. "I love you, too, Spot."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**A/N: And this installment of the AVTL series is, indeed, over. At least we have a happy ending for our dear Sprace. Thanks to everyone for your support, you have no idea how much I appreciate it. For those of you who have not read the rest of the series, I strongly recommend you do so. I'm really rather proud of it. **

**This story is dedicated to Frisky Wallabee, for being my drawing board and for helping me through writer's block, and to Rustie73, for the undying support (and slight obsession) and for the late-night entertainment and the FREAKING AMAZING Pie idea and for listening to me complain about Aaron Lohr's chest hair. Thanks, you two. -Layne**


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